The Hapless and the Hopeless
by lurknomoar
Summary: 'Wait.' Dean raised a hand to cut Cas off. 'Are you actually saying you would let me have you just because you wanted to be useful' "Why the hell not?" countered Cas, his voice breaking. "I'm not an angel anymore, Dean! I'm hapless, hopeless, so why shouldn't I give myself over to you and get some good mileage out of this body before an apocalypse catches up with us again?"


Author's Note:

Warnings: this story takes place after season 8, and has spoilers for it. One of the characters uses some sex-negative language.

Enjoy.

/

"Of course there is a scientific explanation for the unusual shower of lights we experienced last night. It was simply a meteor shower, although a more serious one than we usually see, and the Astronomical Institutes in our country will be held responsible for not reporting it in advance. I urge all viewers to remain calm, and people, please don't believe the fearmongers who talk of bombing, or of alien invasion. I have even heard people claiming this was a result of some sort of biblical retribution, do you believe it?"

"No, Steve, I absolutely don't. This was the weather. Next up on YourNews, constitutional crisis in Hungary…"

Dean sighed and switched off the TV. A full day hasn't passed since the angels fell, and their time was spent in feverish search for sightings. Sam found twenty-seven separate weather reports about unanticipated meteor showers, and various esteemed astronomers and physicists stuttering on TV, just like the one Dean heard a minute ago, trying to find a credible, natural explanation for the phenomenon. Or failing that, reassuring the public that aliens weren't invading, and that they didn't have to anticipate a new Tunguska event. Dean called Charlie, who hacked into the communications of the FBI. Apparently they were trying to process the appearance of hundreds of reports of confused, unidentified individuals, many tied to claims of having fallen from the sky. The higher-ups were hesitating whether to treat it as co-ordinated enemy infiltration, or merely a surge in undocumented immigration. Dean also called every hunter he could reach, giving them all information on angels he thought safe, just so they would be a little more prepared to deal with the unholy chaos that was going to be unleashed. He walked the perimeter of the bunker, and checked for any changes or breaks in the defences, despite the torrential rain that started coming down. But what they both were doing, even if they didn't say so, was looking for Cas. Sam wanted to find him just as much as Dean did, but by afternoon the next day, he was so tired he kept nodding off in front of his laptop, and Dean told him to go to sleep before he passed out again.

Twenty minutes later, Castiel was knocking at the door. The first thing that came into Dean's mind when he threw the bunker door open was that Cas looked like hell. The second was, that Hell looked much worse, and this was merely bad: his shoes caked with mud, his trenchcoat splotched with it too, rainwater soaking his suit and plastering his hair to his face, an ugly but superficial cut marring his left cheek, and hardly standing on his feet with exhaustion, more broken than he has ever been, even in purgatory. It might have been the most heartbreaking, breathtaking thing Dean Winchester has ever seen in his life.

'May I come in?' Cas rasped, and he sounded just as terrible as he looked.

Dean could have done many things. He could have shouted at Castiel for trusting Metatron like the naïve angelic idiot he was, or asked him if he was cold, or punched him in the face for running off _again, _or told him it wasn't his fault, not this time. But all that he could choke out at the moment was a hoarse _yeah_.

Cas stepped in, trailing mud and water behind him. Dean considered asking him to take off his shoes – it did sound very domestic and oppressively normal, but they didn't have anyone to clean the bunker apart from themselves.

'You are already aware of what happened.' Cas bit out the words as if they were distasteful to him.

'Yeah. It's kinda hard not to be. Everyone son of the bitch in America saw the fireworks.' Cas was still standing in the middle of the room, apparently unwilling to move, so Dean continued. 'Are you human now?'

'Yes. More human than I have ever been.' Cas pushed his wet hair back from his eyes, an almost painfully uncharacteristic gesture, while looking for words. 'I've lost my grace. This goes beyond losing my abilities, it means my very essence that defines me as an angel has been removed.'

Cas fell into a thoughtful silence again, but then again, there wasn't anything to add to a statement like that.

'So what are you going to do?' asked Dean.

'I'm not staying here for long.' This was the first thing that Cas said with conviction, the first time he sounded certain, and Dean felt his heart sink. He caught himself before he could ask why, and rephrased the question to stop sounding like a needy child.

'Sure. And then what? Collect the heavenly parachute-squad, and rebuild a garrison here? Hide out and do your research on the tablets? Find that sonofabith Metatron and break his face?'

'I… I don't know. Not yet.'

'So why can't you stay?' asked Dean, pointing out the gap in Cas' logic before the sensible part of his brain caught up with his tongue.

'I am not entirely sure it would be beneficial to you.' answered Cas.

'What the hell, Cas, not beneficial?' snapped Dean. 'If there is someone out to get you, this time you'd better do me the favour of telling me about it!'

'There's no one after me, or at least, not at the moment. This may change if my brothers and sisters become aware of the reasons for their fall, but that has not happened yet.'

'So why is it exactly that you have to fuck off as soon as you have arrived?' asked Dean. He didn't mean to raise his voice, but Cas was going to go away _again_, and Dean logically knew that being an asshole to him when he was there didn't make Cas more likely to hang around, but hell if Dean was going to let him walk out without a word.

'You and Sam have a lot to do, especially since the gates of Hell are still open, and I don't think I could provide substantial assistance anymore.' Said Cas, staring straight ahead.

'What the hell are you talking about?'

'Dean. I am not an angel anymore. And that means my "mojo", as you called it, is gone. I can no longer teleport, nor do I have my former abilities in combat.' Cas sounded unbearably tired.

'So now you can't just poof off, and instead you're going to walk away? I don't see the difference.' Said Dean, his hands curling into fists.

'No need to be flippant. You did say you needed me, back in the crypt. But that is no longer the case, so there is no reason for me to stay.'

'Don't be an idiot, of course we need you!' protested Dean, more vehemently than he meant to.

'Why would you?' asked Cas. 'All that I know of heaven is no longer true, and down here I am no stronger than any reasonably athletic human male.'

Dean didn't answer, hell, he couldn't even meet Castiel's eyes.

'Why, Dean?' repeated Cas. Dean shook his head, lost for words. How could he be expected to explain that this trench-coated ex-angel of the Lord meant more to him than anyone in the world with the sole exception of his brother, that Cas was like a second brother and an honorary Winchester, that it felt like Cas belonged to them, and to him. How could he admit that sometimes he had extremely un-brotherly thoughts about Cas, that he wondered how those strong, steady hands would feel on him, (and he didn't even like guys, not really, and Dr Sexy didn't count, so what the hell,) and that he felt like a teenager with a crush, grinning that helpless grin, almost every time Cas entered the room? How could he tell Cas that more than anything, Dean wanted him to stay? So he said nothing, just shrugged his shoulders, hoping Cas will figure out enough of it to stay, but not too much to freak out and leave forever.

Cas looked him in the eye for a long moment, and smiled a crooked little smile.

'I see.' he said, sounding almost wistful. Then he took two steps forward and kissed Dean on the mouth. Dean could feel his brain shortcircuit, and for a few seconds there was nothing in the world, nothing but the glorious pressure of Cas' lips on his, Cas's hand cupping the back of his neck, the press of Cas' body crowding him against the wall, and he was hardly able to do more than clutch a fistful of trenchcoat and hold on for dear life, because he had been thinking about this for so goddamn long. He thought of this for brief seconds at the worst moments, in the middle of a fight or while discussing Cas' fucked up family, and he thought about it every time Supertramp came up on the radio, and once he had thought about it balls deep inside a blond waitress who was probably named Magda, and each time he knew he wasn't allowed to even think it, much less do it.

Cas was kissing him, and he didn't want it to stop, ever. His tongue slipped between Cas' lips, and the former angel gave a little noise, pulling him closer. It felt perfect, it felt fantastic, it felt out of this world, and yet, Dean could suddenly feel his brain click online with the jolt he felt each time there was something inconsistent in his surroundings, something that could spell danger. Something was wrong. Cas was kissing him passionately, or at least with surprisingly good technique, like something straight out of TV, out of pay-per-view Casa Erotica. In fact, it was more like the holy-shit wet-dream superhot kiss you see in a decent quality porno, and less like a kiss you expect from someone who has just lost what is almost the equivalent of their soul in a horrific betrayal, then wandered around for an entire day in the rain, someone Dean could still feel violently shaking with cold and exhaustion. He broke the kiss, and pulled back to have a look at Cas. His lips were redder than usual, but the circles under his eyes were frightening. Cas smiled, and leaned in for another kiss, but Dean couldn't help starting back, because the smile was clearly fake, forced, the edges of his lips tilting up while his eyes remained dark and hollow. And if the smile was fake, so was the kiss.

'Come on, Dean.' Said Castiel, insistently tugging on his shoulder to pull him closer. 'I know that you are attracted to me, you've been for a long time. This didn't change, it couldn't have. You want me.'

And Heaven help him, Dean did. He really did. He could have bent Cas over the sofa right there and then, and fucked him until he forgot his own name – after all, he had been thinking about this a lot. Even beat up, tired and scruffy, Cas looked too gorgeous for words. But Dean didn't have sex with people who didn't want to have sex with him, even if they said they did. He rarely turned sex down, but there have been teenagers, girls and some boys, hitting on him, kids who were riding high on vodka shots and false bravado, out to prove a point or to get revenge on a boyfriend or to rebel against a father, and Dean always told them to go home and rethink their lives. Cas was clearly in a very bad way, and Dean didn't want to be the one to make it worse, even if it meant giving up the only chance he wass ever going to get of getting Cas out of that goddamn trenchcoat.

'No I don't. Not like this.' said Dean, pulling back.

Cas flinched as if he had been slapped.

'But this is the thing that changed the least!' exclaimed Cas, sounding confused and downright indignant. 'I may not be all I have been before, but I didn't think it would matter to you.'

'What wouldn't matter?' asked Dean.

'That I lost my grace! I still have the vessel you found attractive, and I can still use it to pleasure you as I would have then.'

Dean didn't answer, his head reeling, trying to force Cas' words to make sense.

'I can still make it good for you, Dean.' Continued Cas, his voice desperate babble. 'My combat abilities are diminished, yes, and so is my celestial knowledge, and I won't be much help tracking down Metatron, and I'm not going to be much good anyway, but I still have this. I'm not useless, you'll see that I'm not. I'm not. I can still do this for you. You want this. Please, let me do this.'

'Wait.' Dean raised a hand to cut Cas off. 'Are you actually saying you would let me fuck you just because you wanted to be useful?'

"Why the hell not?" countered Cas, his voice breaking. "I'm not an angel anymore, Dean! I'm hapless, hopeless, so why shouldn't I whore myself out to you and get some good mileage out of this body before an apocalypse catches up with us again?"

Dean remembered a Cas who wasn't an angel anymore. An untidy, stubbled Cas who lost every last bit of hope, a Cas who tried to bury himself in sex because he supposed it to be the human thing to do, a Cas who would still follow Dean into death and worse, a version of Cas he hoped he would never have to see again. But he did, that same Cas was standing in front of him. Dean's pulse was roaring in his ears. He wanted to punch Cas, punch Metatron for betraying him, punch Naomi for using him, punch God for making him a servant whose only goal was to be useful, punch Casa Erotica for teaching him to kiss like that, and punch himself ten times for letting Cas think he would ever treat him like that. Instead he punched the wall, then leaned his forearms against it, trying to breathe before he said anything.

'Dean?' asked Cas tentatively, and fuck, he sounds worried, punching the wall never goes over well with people, he should have remembered realising that with Lisa. He forced himself to turn around and face Cas.

'Listen, Cas.' He started, vaguely relieved that Cas looked more confused than panicked. 'I'm gonna tell you the first rule of being human. Well, maybe not the first, because "don't touch live wires" and "don't drink bleach" are important too, but it's definitely in the top ten. It goes "don't fuck people for stupid reasons". Humans sometimes use their bodies for barter, but you don't have to. Especially not with me.' Dean left out the part where he had used_ his_ body to get things, things like a warm bed, access to some FBI files, or fifty bucks to buy Sammy some decent food. Just because he had to do it, doesn't mean Cas should, Cas deserved better. And he never wanted to be the person to use someone like that, but especially not Cas.

'And another thing' Dean added, feeling like an afterschool special. 'It's also fucking stupid to fuck someone because you feel useless. Even without your mojo, you're a damn good hunter, best in the world. In my book, ganking some motherfuckers is the most useful thing you can do, and you can still do that goddamn well. So no use for the entire boytoy shtick.'

'But I' – started Cas. He was silent for a few seconds, then continued in an awkward rush. 'I really don't want to leave right now.'

'You want to stay?' asked Dean, and hated himself for sounding so hopeful. Even if Cas kissing him was a spur-of-the-moment terrible mistake, having him around without the kissing part was vastly preferable to not knowing whether or not he was even alive.

'Yes.' Said Cas, as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire world.

'Good.' Said Dean, trying to keep relief out of his voice. 'You don't need some bullshit excuse to do that. You can stay here as long as you'd like. Sam would say so too. This is what I meant by saying I needed you, not that you'd have to bend over to bribe me into letting you stay.'

Cas muttered something that almost sounded like a thank you, and Dean let out something that could have been a sigh of relief.

'Come on, I'll get you settled in one of the empty rooms.' Said Dean. 'But take off your shoes, there are going to be rules if you live here. Don't tread mud on the floor, don't mess with Sam's notes, don't leave the windows open for the night, because apart from the safety risks, the spiders that come in are of an unreal size.' Taking a big breath, he added 'Oh, and don't hit on either of us, if you don't mean it.'

'I did mean it.' Said Cas quietly. He was sitting on the floor, unlacing his shoes without looking up at Dean.

'It didn't look like you did.' Said Dean.

'I wasn't at my most articulate, and it went all wrong.' Said Cas, managing to get his left shoe off, and moving to the right one. 'I underestimated your generosity. I didn't expect you to be kind to me despite being unaware of my affections.'

'Your _what?' _asked Dean, incredulous. 'Are you trying to say you have the hots for me?'

'That would be an understatement.' Said Cas, tugging at the hopelessly tangled shoelaces of his right shoe.

'You mean you actually…' started Dean.

'Yes, I would like to have sex with you.' Said Cas. 'But you were right in pointing out that I was both physically and emotionally in an unseemly state. So, not right now.'

'Not right now.' Repeated Dean. He had absolutely no idea how to deal with this, with Cas apparently _liking _him, apart from shouting _yes_ like some unrealistic teenager in an unrealistic teenager movie. So he knelt down to unlace Cas' shoe.

'You don't have to do that.' Cas protested. 'I know perfectly well how knots work.'

'And yet you are stuck.' Answered Dean, glad to be back to a less serious topic.

'It's messier in real life than in theory. It's complicated and there are too many random variables and everything is stuck together with mud.'

'Welcome to humanity' said Dean, sliding off the shoe, and this time Cas' smile was real. Also it was just a few inches away, and Dean was hit with such a wave of hope and want and helpless affection, that he needed to drop his eyes and stare at Cas' socks-clad feet, waiting for his ridiculously-in-love grin to go away.

He shook himself and stood up.

'All right, you need to get some sleep. I'll get you some clean clothes. Do you need anything else?'

Cas stood up slowly, shuffling out of his coat.

'I'm not sure.' Said Cas. 'You. I think.'

'So it turns out taking off your shoes is enough to get you hot and bothered?' said Dean, trying for levity, falling flat.

Cas, bless his wingless little soul, actually glanced down before answering.

'No.' he shook his head. 'This body is really confusing, now that I am this closely connected with it. I think I'm craving proximity.'

'Oh, you need a hug?' said Dean, and he couldn't help but smile.

'Yes' said Cas. 'I'm almost certain.'

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, not minding that he was still soaking wet. At first Cas didn't respond, standing stock still apart from the shivering, and it felt mortifyingly awkward to just hold him. But when Dean tried to move away, Cas' arms came up around him like iron vices, clinging on so tight it was hard to breathe. After a few seconds, Cas seemed to register that Dean wasn't going anywhere, and slumped against him bonelessly. Cas stood within his arms with his eyes closed and his limbs slack, a picture of utter relaxation, and lightyears away both from the one-sided hug in purgatory, and the fake kiss his afternoon.

'Feeling any better?' asks Dean, but the only answer is a content mm-hmm muffled into his neck.

'You want to sleep in my room?' asked Dean. 'Just sleep'. He added hastily.

'I'd like to.' Murmurs Cas, his eyes still closed. 'And I'd like to sleep for now, but tomorrow you could tell me more about the rules of being human.'

Cas clearly made a very clumsy attempt at an innuendo, and Dean was oddly proud, like it was something he managed to teach him. He got Cas one of his Deep Purple shirts, a boxer and a towel, sent him into the bedroom and gave him five minutes to change. When he opened the door, Cas was already in the bed, with his soaked-through clothes neatly folded, seeping mud and water into the armchair. Dean didn't mind. He climbed into bed beside Cas and was about to turn off the light when Cas stopped him.

'Before we sleep, can I kiss you?' asked Cas, sitting up. 'I mean, properly kiss you.'

Dean didn't even answer before leaning in. Cas' lips were cold against his, cold and shaky and unsure, and Dean was so in love, it felt like his heart was given a vicious beating. Their hearts were given a vicious beating, and yet they refused to break. Cas pulled back after a long moment.

'Goodnight.' He said, turning to his stomach and closing his eyes. He didn't quite cuddle, just blindly reached out a hand that fell on Dean's shoulder, and left it there, like he was making sure Dean wasn't leaving. Not moving or opening his eyes, he started talking again.

'Did you mean it when you said I'd be the best hunter in the world?' asked Cas, sleepily. 'It seems like a hyperbole, and I understand if you manipulated me in order to calm me down.'

'You're right.' Said Dean, switching off the light. 'I meant to say second best.'


End file.
